Blood Poetry
by Grey Roses
Summary: Takes place after 'Beneath You', spoilers up to that episode and going AU afterwards. What happens after that incredible final scene? Just my thoughts/ideas.


Blood Poetry - Ashes

Rating: This part, PG-13. PG-13 to a possible R for the entire series.

Disclaimer: Not mine, really Joss', yadda yadda, don't sue, I don't have anything anyway, blah.

Setting: Post 'Beneath You', spoilers up to and including that episode, then AU from there on.

A/N: Plot bunny decided to smack me over the head. This is the result. At first I didn't plan to continue this, but after everyone's reviews, I'm going to try and see where it goes.

***

"Can we rest now?"

Buffy watched the smoke trail slowly into the air, tears stinging her eyes. This wasn't right. Things were never supposed to go this way. Never like this. _God, why does it hurt like this?_

"Buffy?"

Why was he asking her? Did he think she knew? She'd wanted to rest ever since she came back, but there was just too much she had to do. Put on the mask, speak words dripping with smiles and happiness that burned like acid. She choked on it sometimes, her act, spending nights gagging into the toilet because she couldn't stand it anymore. Because she had to get the smell of rotting flesh out, get the deadness out. And the next day she had to work harder to keep on the costume so they wouldn't know. And then she started to crack, and he was there, all sharpness and angles and clear blue eyes that she could lose everything in. And then everything had spiraled downwards and she didn't even care, all she wanted to do was crash. And crash she did. Her and everyone else.

Even now, when she had found herself again, rediscovered that will to live, even now she was still so tired.

"Can we rest?" The words were whispers now, almost drowned out by the hiss of burning skin. But all she could do was stare as he burned away, burned away until only tears and ashes remained… except that the part of her that had been screaming in horror since he first turned towards the cross finally broke through the shock. And then she was there, cursing and pulling him off of it, the curses becoming half-sobs when she saw the pieces of flesh that stuck to the cross and the vicious red blisters that covered him. He tried to push her away, like her touch burned hotter than the cross, but his hands barely brushed against her as she dragged him. That caused rage to flare low in her belly, the fact that he was so helpless, so weak, and with one final heave he was free of it, and they were both tumbling back.

She ended up half-sprawled on the floor, his upper body weighing her down. "P'rhaps y'need servicin' affer all?" His words were slow and thick, the burns marking his face slurring his words and thickening his accent. "Mebbe later, though, luv? Would not wanna muss ya clothes. Not good et'quette an' all." He gave a wheezing laugh that caused the hair on her neck to stand on end. Her hands shook badly as she slowly worked her way out from under him, avoiding his gaze because she didn't want to know what waited for her there. The words pierced painfully through all her defenses, and she didn't know how to respond.

"N-no Spike, you don't…" A sentence would be good. "No servicing right now, okay?" She winced at the way her voice sounded, the patronizing tone one takes with a small child. Another broken chuckle and she knew he had picked up on it.

"How 'bout a piece o' candy, then? Or mebbe a new toy?" She continued to shift backwards, pushing his dead weight off as gently a possible. She couldn't even tell if she was hurting him, his face was twisted with something that looked like a grin. "Bloody 'ell, Slayer, I may be soddin' nutters, but--" His half-sane tirade was cut off as his head, no longer having the support of her leg, cracked loudly on the concrete. The two yelped simultaneously, and Buffy scrambled forward.

"_Spike_! God, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

He smiled almost lazily up at her, eyes half-lidded and clouded with pain. "Jest tell a bloke when 'e needs ta close 'is mouth nex' time, a'ight Slaya? Tha' bloo'y 'urt…" His words became almost unintelligible before his eyes rolled back and he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Sorry.." she mumbled, and felt guilty as a relieved sigh slipped out. His cry had caused a wrenching in her chest… But at least he wouldn't feel any more pain now. _And he can't hurt you with words anymore_, a part of her whispered rebelliously. Well, that, too. She really just couldn't deal with it right now, or she would lose it. And she had to take care of him before she broke down, had to get him somewhere safe where he could heal. And with the weight of the day building until it throbbed behind her eyes, she knew it had better be fast.

***

Xander paced restlessly, pausing his steady progress back and forth only to peer through the window, squinting up and down the street.

"Hello? Earth to Xander! She's the Slayer. She can take care of herself." Dawn sighed in annoyance as the young man's expression only darkened. She softened her voice. "You know Buffy, and you've seen how she's changed. She'll kick his ass if he tries anything."

Xander finally stopped, collapsing onto the couch next to Dawn. "You weren't there, Dawn. One minute he was the normal, albeit calmer and slightly more well-dressed Spike... Then he started whaling on Anya. If Anya hadn't kicked his bleached, demony self across the room, I would have staked him right there. Then he and Buffy started going at it... I still have no clue about half the stuff they were yelling about, except Spike was in game face and..."

The younger girl smiled slightly, patting his arm. "Look at you, with the whole worried, protective friend thing. Buffy doesn't know how good she's got it. But really, she'll be fine. I know she can handle it."

Xander sighed, mustering a smile on her behalf. "You're probably right. I just wish I could be there, so she wouldn't have to be alone. Words can hurt as bad as fists sometimes."

Dawn nodded. "You're right. But when I said she could handle herself, I meant against anything. She really has changed." She paused, her gaze dropping. "I missed her so much when she was gone..." And both knew that the "gone" time wasn't the summer when Buffy was dead.

Xander looped an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. "I missed her, too, Dawnie. And I have a feeling she won't leave us again." He paused, then spoke softly. "And I promise you I'll never leave."

Dawn sniffed a bit, wiping eyes that had filled with tears. "Leave it to Xander to help you out when you're all teary. I thought I was supposed to be the one calming your doubts and fears."

"Has to work both ways sometimes. Ooh, that's good. Remember that."

"Mental note duly taken and stored for future use."

He grinned. "And all things were right in the world. Dawn, who was happy and non-teary, had learned a valuable life lesson, and Xander was now assured that Buffy would be fine—"

The resounding slam of the back door being kicked open brought them both to their feet as Buffy's voice rang through the house.

"I need help!"

***

Even her Slayer strength was starting to wane as she stumbled through the night, Spike's limp body cradled in her arms. Had she not known he was a vampire, it would have felt as if she was lugging around a dead person, and the effect was quite unsettling. A few fledgling vamps had come near enough to send her senses tingling, but apparently they didn't know what to make of the Slayer carrying around a scorched, unconscious Spike. It was extremely lucky that none of the more intelligent, nastier nasties had gotten whiff of her, or she would have been in serious trouble.

So, when the friendly lights of her house came into view, it was an extreme relief. The door, however, posed a problem. Her arms were almost numb and occupied with the dead weight of the vampire. If she put him down, she honestly didn't know if she could get him back up again, and Xander and Dawn helping her drag him inside might wake him. And from the way the burns were looking, jarring those wounds would cause some serious pain. She sighed in slight annoyance, summoning strength from her reserves, and kicked the door in.

She winced as the glass shattered, extremely thankful that her job as a guidance whatever would be pulling in extra money. Then her knees started to waver and she figured some assistance would be a good thing. "I need help!"

She didn't realize how desperate she had sounded until Dawn and Xander burst into the kitchen, both panting and wielding some serious weapons. _Ooh, forgot I had that one. Curvy bladed goodness_. She snapped out of her admiration of the scythe-like blade when Xander stepped forward.

His eyes, which had been widened with fear and worry, slowly took her in, pausing with wary interest on Spike. "Put him down and I'll stake him for ya, Buff."

Buffy wasn't sure how serious he was, and she really didn't care. She was drained in every way a person could be and all she wanted to do was put Spike on the couch. And sleep for a year. "No! No stakage. I need to get him to the couch. Help me. Now." She knew her tone allowed no room for argument, only immediate compliance.

Yet Xander still seemed unsure. "Buffy, I don't—"

"For God's sake, Xander! Look at him! Does he seem like a threat to you? Help me!" He jerked back at the raw, angry emotion in her voice, looking at Dawn with reemerging worry. Yet they still didn't move. 

Dammit! With an exasperated sigh, she again forced herself forward. "Help or get out of my way!" She shuffled towards them, tripping and almost dumping Spike in the floor until hands steadied her. Spike was eased from her arms and she shook them, groaning loudly as feeling returned.

"Deadboy weighs an awful lot for being this bony," Xander griped, though he and Dawn both carried the vampire with surprising care towards the living room.

Still, overkill was always good. "Please be gentle with him. I don't want him to wake up.."

Xander grinned over the top of Spike's head. "No prob, because hey, certainly no wanting to deal with an annoyed, awakened Spike over here." She followed them slowly into the other room, surveying their progress intently until Spike was safely settled on the couch. Xander and Dawn stepped back, seeing his wounds fully for the first time.

Dawn brought a hand to her mouth. "Oh… wow. Wow in a very, very bad way..."

Even Xander seemed affected. He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "I'm all for slapping him around every now and then, but that's… ow." He looked to Buffy, who was standing at the end of the couch, her face unreadable. "What happened? Did he hug a cross or something?"

Clearly the sharp intake of breath and slight step back wasn't what he expected. Nor was the way Buffy turned her head away, speaking quietly. "More like draped himself over it. And stayed there." What she left unsaid was the part where she just stood stupidly and watched him burn.

Xander's expression shifted to shock, and he muttered a curse darkly.

Dawn's face twisted as if she was unsure what to feel, eventually settling somewhere around gravely curious. "Why did he do it?"

Buffy closed her eyes, a hand lifting to knead the bridge of her nose_. Why does everyone ask me the hard questions? How should I know any of the answers?_ "I don't know. Maybe as a means of punishment. Maybe atonement. Maybe, I don't know, maybe so he could end his pain."

Xander looked at her sharply. "Why would he want to atone? What pain would he want to end? He's a vampire. And we all know that vampire equals evil. Remorseless killer and all? Soulless demon?"

Buffy laughed softly, opening her eyes to regard him steadily. "Right on all accounts except for one." _Come on, don't make me tell you. I can't say it yet, because saying it once almost killed me._

And Xander's face when he realized what she meant probably mirrored her own from back in the church. "No. It's impossible. It's—"

She didn't have time for this. She was cracking on the inside. Just a bit longer, and then she could let go. "Can Dawn stay with you for a few days, until Spike is better?"

"What?" Dawn's voice was full of confusion. "Why? What's impossible? What happened?"

But Xander was nodding grimly. "Yeah, but why?"

"He needs help, and he needs time to heal." And not just the burns, but the shattered person inside. "He needs someone with him who... I just don't want anyone harmed if he snaps like at the Bronze, and I can watch him without getting hurt." She could see Xander understood. "Thank you." She hoped she managed to convey how truly grateful she was that he was taking this well.

Apparently he did, because he smiled faintly and nodded. "No problem. Contrary to popular belief, Xander does sometimes understand. But you only get a few days alone to get him through the worst. And there are still some things we need to talk about."

Dawn was growing frantic. "Wait! You guys are so not shutting me out like this! What is going on?!"

The anger in Dawn's voice pulled Buffy back from where her thoughts had been drifting, and she tried to organize her words coherently. "Dawn, please. I promise that Xander will explain everything, but I..." Her voice cracked, from emotion or exhaustion or maybe both. "... I just can't. Not right now or I won't be able to do what I need to do. Can you please just go to Xander's? I swear I'll call you tomorrow and we'll talk. _Please_, Dawn?"

Dawn's expression wavered, then drained of anger as she stepped forward and embraced her sister. "Alright, only if you promise. And whatever is going on, be careful, will ya? I love you too much and I don't want you getting hurt any more."

Buffy nodded, almost losing it again. How had she missed this woman who lived inside Dawn? How had she not seen the strength that was growing in her sister?

Dawn raced upstairs, returning after a few minutes with a backpack full of clothes and necessities. She smiled at Buffy, pecking on the cheek before slipping out the door.

Xander followed her slowly, turning before he stepped outside. "Love you, Buff. Good luck." He waved and shut the door quietly behind him.

__

Almost there, Buffy. She forced her body into action, retrieving the box of medical supplies that was kept next to the weapons chest. She moved in a daze, dressing Spike's burns carefully, and unless it was a trick of tired eyes, they already seemed to have improved slightly. The vampire whimpered softly during her ministrations, but never woke fully, something Buffy would forever be thankful for. After putting the supplies away, she draped a blanket over his inert form, mustering a ghost of a smile as he sighed and settled into true sleep. Her muddled brain noted how childlike he now looked, nothing but painless peace on his half-bandaged face.

Forcing herself to go over everything she had needed to do one more time, she decided that she could let go now. For a moment she held out, perhaps trying to feel the anguish of what it must be like to have your emotions trapped inside you with no way for them to escape, no way to lessen the pain. Just the endless chaos of hopelessangerconfusionterrorhorrorregretragesadnesslovehateneedwantfear, eating away at your insides. And never a moment of peace.

But she couldn't keep her hold on them for long, and finally she released her control, allowing the full impact of the day to settle on her. For a moment she couldn't breath, the sheer power of it all causing her weakened knees to fail. She slumped to the floor, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Then all the emotions swept through her, scouring away everything until she was scorched and raw. Burying her head in her hands, she allowed the tears to come, sobs shaking her body.

And she wept silently until exhaustion finally overpowered her, pulling her wearied mind down into a dark, dreamless sleep.


End file.
